Page 69 of Blurred Lines

A wave of relief washes over me, followed by a jolt of anticipation. Maybe, just maybe, this is a step in the right direction, a thread to untangle the mess between us. I head home and begin preparing for the party. It's the first time I've had any company over since that afternoon. I should be able to finish everything before Brian's school ends.

Once the main bit is done, I go to fetch my kid. We eat an early dinner at the restaurant, and then, he's off to bed. He doesn't go down easy, though—not until I promise that he can join his favorite uncles for some late-night grub and a chat. With that bit sorted, I head to my backyard, where I'm hosting.

I grimace as I open my phone to a text from Silas. I should let them know. I hop on a conference call with both of my best friends.

"We're on our way," Finn's voice comes through. "I'm bringing wine."

"Good," I say tentatively, then pause for a beat. "There's something you guys should know. She's back."

"Who?" Silas asks blandly.

"Em," I blurt out. "I saw her at the farmer's market and—uh—I may have invited her to this …"

Silas's sigh fills the line. "Okay. You saw her, and to amplify the taste of foot in your mouth, you invited her to the party."

"Pretty much."

"She coming?"

I know I can hear hope in Finn's question, but I also know he's guarding himself.

"Yeah," I say slowly. "She is."

"Okay."

"You guys—" I want to tell them I understand if they need to hang back, especially after this information.

"We'll be there," Silas replies briskly. "Hell, if she's coming, she better bring some answers."

The sun dips low, brushing the horizon with strokes of crimson and gold as I put the finishing touches on the dinner setup in my backyard. A canopy of fairy lights twinkles above, casting a soft glow over the tables adorned with ivory linens and vases of wildflowers. The air is filled with the mouthwatering aroma of roasted garlic and thyme, mingling with the subtle scent of blooming jasmine from the garden.

My trusted grill sizzles with succulent lamb chops, their savory spice rub promising a taste of culinary heaven, while a rustic loaf of rosemary bread, freshly baked and still warm, sits beside a salad of arugula, pear, and pecorino, dressed in a balsamic reduction that's both tangy and sweet.

I catch snippets of compliments on the enchanting setup, their anticipation for the feast ahead evident in their eager glances towards the food. Finn and Silas flank me. We don't talk about the inevitable, but it feels like … it'll be alright, regardless of her presence.

Until it happens.

My hands falter over the sizzling lamb chops as I spot her silhouette in the twilight. An involuntary smile tugs at my lips before I can squash the traitorous emotion.

She's wearing a light, floral sundress that flows around her like sunlight on water. Her wheatish skin glows, her chocolate-brown hair cascades down her shoulders to her waist. Those eyes, large and expressive, hold a hint of nervousness as they land on me, but the familiar warmth remains, a spark I thought extinguished.

Everything about her—the curve of her full lips, the distinct shape of her nose, the elegant line of her neck and those pronounced collarbones—throws me back to those nights under the stars, the shared moments, the unspoken promise of something more.

She approaches slowly, each step a measured beat against the frantic drumming of my heart. With every inch closer, the air around us seems to crackle with anticipation. It's like the world itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what unfolds between us.

When she's finally within reach, she smiles hesitantly. "Hi." The single word shimmers with vulnerability and a hint of hope, and it damn near breaks me.

"Hey …" I manage, my voice rough. Taking a deep breath, I say what needs to be said. "We're glad you could make it."

Silas's eyebrows shoot up, and Finn's jaw clenches, a storm brewing in their eyes. Emily stands her ground, her resolve evident in the way she sets her shoulders. It's not the defiance I've come to expect; it's something else, a silent plea I can't quite decipher.

"I know what I did was rash, stupid even," she begins, a tremor in her voice betraying her nerves. "Leaving like that … it wasn't about you guys. It was my own issues. Things I should have worked through years ago."

I search her eyes, aching for the truth, for some piece of her that still belongs to me, to us. "Please, Emily," I urge quietly, "just tell us. We need to understand."

She nods, the movement jerky and unsure. "I'm back, not just here, but in Emberton. I'm hoping for another chance. Not only with you guys, but with … everything."

Hope, traitorous and persistent, flickers back to life. Before I can delve into the murky waters of what "another chance" actually means, Silas interrupts. "Hold on there. Why? You're saying you want another chance, and we're asking why. Why did you run in the first place?"

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